


For the Time Being

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: During Canon, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-22 15:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12484788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Valjean and Javert are forced to take shelter together when they are caught in a storm.





	For the Time Being

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esteliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/gifts).



> Happy Halloween! I hope you like this! It was a pleasure writing for you.

Valjean had not been long on the road after escaping the bagne before he had realized he was pursued. It was with a heavy weight of dread in his stomach that he forged on, compelled by the promise to Fantine, but increasingly shrouded in doubt by the knowledge that Javert would stop at nothing.

It was late afternoon when he became conscious of the storm. It must have been brewing for some time as the sky was already covered by angry black clouds which Valjean had not noticed. He first became aware when the rain began to fall, an opening of the heavens which left him completely drenched. 

The storm, he hoped, would slow Javert's progress, but Valjean was unable to proceed himself. Presently, he saw a house, sitting dark by the side of the road. The garden around it was overgrown and the door hung off one hinge. It was a small, cozy dwelling, and it was clearly now abandoned, he could tell it had once been well-loved, for the garden had been maintained and the walls only recently whitewashed. It could not be long since the place had been lived in.

Valjean entered cautiously, calling out a warning to anyone who might be inside. Perhaps the occupant was ill? But as he moved through the front room and the kitchen, it soon became apparent that there was no one there. 

How, he wondered, had the Valjean of years before approached such a house? He dismissed this line of thinking. At least he had been provided with refuge. There were dried onions and preserved food in the cellar and Valjean brought some of these up with him. In the kitchen, he lit a fire in the stove with wood from the still-stocked wood box and fond a pan in the cupboard.

As he waited for it to heat enough to cook his supper, Valjean went in search of something to wear. There was a bed upstairs, and there was but one set of clothes left in the dresser which seemed to have been emptied hurriedly. They were a bit small, but they kept the chill out and served him better than his weight things.

As he was dressing, his attention was drawn to the single window set in the wall, overlooking the garden and the road beyond it. The storm was raging even more fiercely than it had when Valjean had been driven inside and he gave thanks that he had thought to stop when he did, rather than being further down the road, without a place of shelter nearby, at this time. Each lightning flash illuminated the shaking of the trees and the driving rain which filled the gulleys on the road. 

He had been about to turn away from the window when the next flash revealed a crumpled form in the middle of the road. Some poor soul was as desperate a traveler as he on this night. 

Valjean did not even consider letting the man die to protect himself from exposure. He threw on an overcoat and rushed downstairs and out of the house. 

In the dark, he could see little of the traveler and he didn't pause before lifting him into his arms. He was not even sure if the man was alive or already dead. His only thought was bringing him into what little warmth Valjean had been able to coax into the house.

Once inside, he set his burden down in a chair in front of the stove. Then he went back upstairs for blankets from the wardrobe. He returned to the kitchen to find the man still slumped in the chair, though he had scooted it a few inches closer to the warming stove.

"Come," Valjean said urgently. "We must get you out of those wet things."

He reached for the lapels of the man's coat at which time, the hat fell away, revealing the man's face. It was Javert. _Of course_ , he thought. _He would have been just behind me. Ah, if only he had continued on._

He banished any thought of hesitation he might have had. Even Javert deserved his help.

"Come on," he repeated, pulling his arms out of the sleeves. Javert appeared too delirious to realize who was speaking to him and complied. 

Once Javert was out of his wet things, Valjean draped him in blankets, thoroughly enough to warm him and preserve his modesty.

"Javert," he said, "you must stay warm." 

At that moment, perhaps because he'd heard his name, Javert's eyes seemed to focus on Valjean for the first time. "You," he said.

"Yes, it is I." Valjean rose to put the pan on the stove. "You would be dead if not for me."

Javert stood shakily, blankets still drawn around him. "I will not stay here with you. I will not be indebted to you."

"I will ask for nothing from you, Javert." Then, not waiting for a reply, he added, "You cannot go out there and catch your death. I will not permit you to do that when I could have helped you."

Javert said nothing, but at least he sat. Valjean could only imagine how he felt, though he could not let himself feel too much guilt over it. 

"Do you not realize, Javert, that when you came to trust M. Madeleine, you had come to trust me?"

"Only through your deception." 

Valjean ignored him and busied himself in cooking.

"It does not matter now," he said. "Neither of us can go anywhere tonight. We must rely on each other for now."

Javert hesitated but he seemed to recognize how powerless he was, naked beneath his blanket shroud. 

"For the time being," he said.

"And for no longer, I expect." Valjean offered him one of the plates he had discovered in the cupboard. "Here. Eat. It isn't much, but it is what we have."

Javert accepted the plate and began to eat slowly. There was no sound beside that of the storm outside. Valjean was struck by a sudden melancholy. 

If Javert was here, then he would surely not be able to evade capture now. He would not reach Fantine's daughter. 

He lifted his eyes to Javert's profile. He had never given much thought to what went on inside the inspector's head, but he was not an automaton. His mistress was Justice and Javert must fear to disappoint her. If doing otherwise ever crossed his mind, he must be wracked with guilt. Valjean could only pity a man such as that. 

"Javert?" 

He raised his head in response.

"When dawn comes and the storm has passed, I will place myself in your custody."

Javert seemed not to have been expecting this admission, but he allowed only the briefest shock to show on his face. 

"As it should be," he said. He looked to have more life in him now, and he rose, still looking absurd in his cocoon of blankets. "Have you explored the extent of this house?"

Valjean nodded. "There is not much besides this room and the one beyond, a root cellar, and one room in the loft. I should say the family fell on hard times and abandoned the place."

Javert looked irritated, rather than sympathetic. "Are there beds up there?"

"There is one."

"No matter." Javert sat back down. "I cannot sleep lest you escape the moment I close my eyes."

"You have my word I will not do that."

"And what good is a convict's word?"

Valjean decided not to answer. Instead, he lit the stub of a candle from the fire. "I will sleep against the wall and you may sleep beside me. You will awaken if I move." It would not surprise him to discover Javert was a light sleeper. 

Javert was amenable to this and they climbed the narrow staircase to the loft together. The bedding was dry, although up here, removed from the fire, it was cold. Valjean lay down and Javert hesitated. He was still draped in his blankets. 

"Lie down," Valjean told him. "You cannot pass the night standing up. It will be too cold if you stay out of bed." 

It was so dark Valjean could not see Javert's face as he slid beneath the covers, though he felt him start as his leg brushed Valjean's hip. Valjean hoped that the similar gesture from himself had gone unnoticed by Javert. 

"Are you comfortable?" he asked. He wondered where his voice had gone. 

"It will suffice."

Valjean had felt tired when he had encouraged them to come to bed, but now all hope of sleep had left him. He was very conscious of Javert's presence in the bed beside him, much more so of his unclothed state. There were places only the covers kept their skin from touching; he could make out the outline of Javert's hip against his side and he found himself entertaining a dark curiosity of what it would feel like without the barrier. 

"Monsieur?" He was surprised to hear Javert address him thusly but he supposed he could not think of any other way.

"Yes?"

"Are you comfortable?"

 _Not at all_ , he thought, but he could not give this answer. "I will last until morning."

Javert's answering grunt made Valjean wonder if perhaps his agony and discomfort were shared. There was a heat radiating from Javert, even through the layers that separated them. A more desperate man would have sought it out, might have propositioned Javert, but Valjean did not think he was that desperate. Even in these last hours of freedom, he did not think he would give in to that urge, however strong. 

He turned his head to see if Javert was still awake and was met with the dark eyes of his bedmate. 

"Go to sleep," Javert commanded, and Valjean looked away guiltily. He might not last this interminable night, much less the years that lay before him. 

At least he was comforted by the fact that beside him, Javert was similarly wide awake. 

How could he not hear Valjean's heartbeat, as loud as it was? The storm seemed to be moving off and he was now more conscious of every sound such that might betray him as his mind hurtled forward. 

"Is something wrong?" Javert inquired.

It was the second time he had asked after Valjean.

"Nothing, Monsieur." 

Javert shifted beside him and the barrier between them slipped, exposing his warmth. "Are you cold?"

"I have been more comfortable." He paused. "Are you cold?"

Javert did not answer, but he shivered.

"Here." He paid no mind to propriety. He simply lifted the blanket and drew Javert closer to him. "We must not let ourselves get cold and body heat is the best way."

"Yes," Javert agreed. He pressed closer. 

Valjean now knew for sure he would get no sleep whatsoever. Javert's body beside him was _too_ warm, uncomfortably warm. He could only hope his torment was not one-sided; surely Javert was in the same agony. 

_At least it is only until morning_ , he thought, as he reminded himself to breathe. _Then we will see where we go from there.  
_


End file.
